ettersberg | AD ASTRA 🚀 INBOX

[ the breathless note has thomas pick up the pace, fanning his own sense of urgency and need.

but, ]

No.

No, I want - [ he's in public. ] If anything, you ought to slow down.

[The next noise is less of a laugh and more of a low purr, interrupted by the faintest hitch of breath.]

Say you want me to.

[ he cannot in good conscience move any faster. ]

I do. [ oh, how he does. wants william to slow down, wants him to speed up, just wants him, full stop. thomas makes a noise in return, a hint of frustration, mostly need.

in truth, ] Quite desperately, if you must know.

Of course I must.

[That's more than half of what's got his voice so terribly giddy, although the lazy attentions he's paying himself aren't hurting.]

It... ah, it feels wonderful, Thomas.

Your door is unlocked, is it?

[ with some measure of urgency. the answer is about to become immediately relevant. did he ask this before? his mind is somewhat blank right now, admittedly, or hyperfocused. ]

[This laugh is faintly giddy, a rush of pleasure with all the myriad realizations the question sparks up in him at once.]

It-- is. [Another purring edge of teasing as he adds:] Are you close, Thomas?

[ there is no verbal response-- just the swooshing of the door, steps, another swoosh of the bathroom door and then thomas is there. instead of a suit, he's wearing thin cotton pants and a simple white tee. his normally neat side-parting is dishevelled, sweat on his brow and hair dark at the temples. he is still, in fact, unwrapping tape from around his knuckles, although it's quite clear that he's nearly finished with it, that he's been multi-tasking on the way here. ]

You, Mr Lawford, are a menace.

[William, for his own part, isn't-- well. Wearing anything at all. Which makes perfect sense, surely, as he's leaned lazily against the shower wall, fingers moving at an unhurried pace along the length of his cock.

There's a sharp intake of breath in the clear effort not to speed up as Thomas steps through the door, followed by a slow, smiling exhale.]

Lock the door, m'eudail.

[ it takes only the press of a palm to lock the door behind him, but thomas needs two tries to find the panel, unwilling as he is to take his eyes off william for even just a second. he wants to commit it to memory, yes, the way william is leaning against the wall lazily, the grasp of fingers around the length of his cock, the intake of breath, the smile, but beyond that, he thinks he'd be unable to look away even if he wanted to, captivated.

with the door closed and, eventually, locked, thomas can let go of the tight leash he's held himself on, shoulders dropping, the thin cotton of the trousers doing nothing to hide the way his own cock jerks and fills out at the sight, at the noise. ]

You look -

[ good, is muffled by his shirt as he pulls it over his head in one motion, not bothering to fold it. ]

[The fumbling feels delightfully complimentary. The look feels very much the same. There's a novelty, still, to being studied like this--openly, hungrily--that curls wonderfully in the pit of his stomach as he forces his hand to keep the same even pace on himself.

There's a novelty in being allowed to study, as well. The warm water from the shower is perhaps putting the faintest softness around the edges, but the lovely little details come through clearly all the same. The stretch of Thomas's fingers reaching for the panel, the relaxation hitting his shoulder, the sweat-ruffled hair, the smooth motion of beginning to strip; it keeps William's heart pounding in his ears.]

Flirt.

[Words are getting more sluggishly caught in his throat, now that Thomas is here but still just out of reach. His fingers briefly loosen before taking a tighter grip on himself, chin lifting as he lets his head rest back against the wall.]

Says the man who asked for my assistance unmaking his bed. [ comes the prompt response, crisp and clear because thomas is very focused, very present now. he certainly doesn't mind; his chest feels a little tight, lungs expanding to take in a breath after the other.

they both have scars; william is missing a limb and thomas comes with the puckered entry and exit wound of a bullet on his chest, his thigh. it's nothing they haven't seen, felt, touched before, and yet.

there's almost a pause before thomas undoes his trousers, although it is more due to the way william's fingers tighten around his cock than it is out of any concern for scars. almost, only, and then he pushes his trousers down and tosses aside the last of the tape from his knuckles, kicking off his shoes, as naked as william himself, although considerably less wet for the time being. ]

[It's different, like this. There's more exposure to the bits and pieces that don't feel quite right yet--the scattering of inelegant shrapnel scars, the ugly mangle of larger injuries, the places that don't quite work the way they used to.

But it's so easy, with Thomas. It's almost nothing, to stand exposed; to meet the same exposure with an eye only for the wonder and joy of being able to be this close to another living, breathing, lovely body.

William lets his head loll slightly to the side against the wall of the shower, breath hitching as his fingers unconsciously tighten another hair.]

Come here?

[ the exposed line of william's neck when his head goes back, the hitch in his breath-- those catch thomas's attention far more than the shrapnel scars or lack of limb and it takes thomas a moment to drag his gaze away, to return to the task at hand.

which is really only getting into the shower. he's performed far more difficult and less pleasant tasks in his life. and once he's resumed control of his limbs, that's what he does in short order, reaching one hand out to william's waist less to steady himself as for the sheer joy of touching.

voice a little rough: ] How does it feel?

[The sensations change as Thomas steps into the shower. The water hits his skin differently. The heat of another body adds a distinct warmth from the pleasant temperature of the water. The fingers on his hip send a shock of warmth through him, radiating from the spot where the familiar touch has come to rest.

William's eyes flutter closed for a moment, spine arching slightly from the wall.]

Wonderful. [A sigh as much as a word. A purr as much as a full thought.] But not as good as you.

[ thomas leans in, quite carefully keeping their bodies apart, to kiss william. if they touch, if he lets himself lean against the long lines of william, slide a leg between william's thighs, he thinks this will all be over far too soon and he will not be able to untangle himself again until it is. not a terrible fate, of course, but-- he does have plans. admittedly, plans that he decided on only a second ago, but plans nonetheless.

the kiss breaks and he lingers there for a moment, their breaths mingling, before ] Allow me- [ sinking to his knees, both hands on william's hips to steady himself on the descend. his knees won't thank him for it, but he remembers what his knees were like when his body was well over 80; a little discomfort will be very worth getting his mouth on william now. ]

[The torture of the kiss is exquisite. The press of lips is a delight, of course, but the sensation of being held back this way is an incredible thrill.

Not nearly as thrilling as the shift of Thomas moving to his knees, of course.]

Oh-- please.

[His fingers move from himself to smooth contentedly into the other man's hair. It would be nice to close his eyes and relax entirely, but it's far too much of a delight to see exactly who it is crowding in the shower with him.]

[ the truth of the matter is that thomas loves this-- the weight of a cock on his tongue, the feeling of soft skin and hardness, the taste of it. the sounds he can draw from william like this, that please, the hand in his hair.

he hums in response, in encouragement, taking william a little deeper. ]

[The hum is answered with an unrepentant moan, soft and low but undeniably reverberating through the warm heavy air of the little washroom. So much nicer, after all, to feel utterly unashamed of allowing himself the things that truly sent his heart racing.

All the control left in William has to be concentrated in his hips and his fingers, keeping both as still as he can manage. It's his fingers that slip slightly, grip tightening a hair from gently to needing, before he can force himself to relax again.

The trouble with teasing, apparently, is that it starts moments like this at quite a high tempo.]

[ the moan goes right through thomas--there's something wonderful, something intoxicating about knowing that he pulled that noise from william. about the (admittedly unnecessary) evidence that william is enjoying himself.

william's fingers tighten in his hair and thomas finds himself moaning in response, a little choked-off noise, taking william just a little deeper.

he doesn't mind, in truth. ]

[Much better than being alone. Much better than imagining that someone is here with him.]

Oh... [He forces his fingers to relax, smoothing gently over now-damp curls. His voice comes soft and purring, barely louder than the patter of water against the walls of the shower.] ...Thomas...

[Just a little longer like this. Just a few more luxurious moments before he'll need to tug at the other man's hair again in warning.]

[ the truth of it, a truth that thomas has spent a long time hiding because it was not the sort of thing that was done, that a man of his station (or any man at all, really) ought to feel, the truth is that thomas loves this. loves being on his knees for another man, loves the weight of a cock on his tongue, the stretch of his mouth around it and the slight ache of his jaw, the pleasure he can give this way.

he loves this and his own cock is achingly hard with it. loves it so much that when william tugs at his hair in warning, he thinks about ignoring the implication, about doubling down his efforts instead of easing up. thinks about swallowing william down until he feels him spill down his throat, and moans with the thought--

but there are other things he loves, too, and william said something about unmaking the bed.

he pulls back, letting william linger on his tongue, on his lips as long as he can before pressing his face to william's thigh and just breathing through how badly he wants.

voice rough, ] Promise you'll fuck me into your sheets?

[It's difficult to say what the best thing about being here is. There are a number of factors and balances, beyond the fact that "best" will always been counterbalanced by the fact that they've been stolen from their respective homes and can't be where the feeling in their bones tell them to be.

But moments like this rate somewhere wonderfully high up.

This particular moment--falling over the edge at the low murmur of Thomas's voice against his skin, hand barely catching himself away so that the mess of being pushed to release is more a problem for the shower than the man kneeling before him--is certainly completely distracting from the downsides. All his mind can manage to cling to is the breathless joy of this small space, of this warm connection.

It takes a few gulping breaths before he can nod.] In-- just a moment, darling. I promise.

[ thomas turns his face just in time to see william spill, jerking with it, positioned away just in time. it doesn't help his own need, the insistent ache of it, but--

thomas is a patient man. ]

There's no rush. [ he manages, after clearing his throat. he sounds as wrecked as william, he thinks, and turns back to mouth at william's thigh, no real goal in mind but wanting the contact.

there isn't any rush, really, but-- ] Please.

[They've been patient their entire lives. They've lived with not quite enough, with too little time and too great a need, with finding sufficient satisfaction from nights that still left an ache.

It's such a blessing, being allowed to linger here with Thomas still warm and close--with the easy promise of more at their own pace.]

Bed. [He's still breathless. The throb in his entire being is still pitching slowly downward, coming back under control. Still, William is entirely certain it won't take terribly long to be ready again if they keep up this lovely tangling together.] Now.

[There's no rush, but there's need.]

Yes- [ it's breathless, acknowledgment and pleasure and acquiescence. his fingers dig into william's hips for a moment as thomas moves to stand, a little slow on account of his knees-- not as bad as they once were, not by a long stretch, but his body has not reverted back to its early twenties. and then he is close and he finds that he wants, needs to kiss william before he can even think to move out of the shower and toward the bed.

his own aching desire is almost distant, but anticipation makes it all the more pressing. ]

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